She faced the man, a little out of the reach of his arm.

"I told you never again to raise your hand to strike her," she
cried in a fierce, suppressed little voice, her blue eyes flaming
loathing and hatred at him. "If you hit her once more--something
is going to happen. If you want to hit anyone, hit me. I kin stand
it. But--look at her! You've broken her shoulder, you've crippled
her--an' you oughta die!"

The man advanced half a step, his eye ablaze. Deep down in him
Peter felt something he had never felt before. For the first time
in his life he had no desire to run away from the man. Something
rose up from his bony little chest, and grew in his throat, until
it was a babyish snarl so low that no human ears could hear it.
And in his hiding-place his needle-like fangs gleamed under
snarling lips.

But the man did not strike, nor did he reach out to grip his
fingers in the silken mass of Nada's hair. He laughed, as if
something was choking him, and turned away with a toss of his
arms.

"You ain't seein' me hit her any more, are you, Nady?" he said,
and disappeared around the end of the cabin.

The girl laid a hand on the woman's arm. Her eyes softened, but
she was trembling.

"I've told him what'll happen, an' he won't dare hit you any